Two hours after the almost-flipping-the-table-kiss, I was still embarrassed about my less than suave move. However, Tilia provided the best kind of distraction as we walked down the main street, tugging our hands forward as she spotted something in a store window.

Matthews steered her away, shaking his head. Tilia had her mind set on getting a new toy, but her father wasn't having any of that.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?" he asked, not for the first time.

"Yes. I don't want to drag Tilia around like that." I was determined to visit every place I could think of that might have a job opening. It was time to earn some money so that I could pay the debt to Sam before the dealer thought it would be a good idea to gut me.

"I see your point," he replied, but he didn't look convinced. In fact, he appeared ready to argue against my decision.

"I'll be fine on my own. I'll meet you two later." I smiled, trying my best to reassure him.

"Daddy let's go." Tilia pulled us toward the store with all the strength she could muster. "I wanna play."

"We have to say bye to Ethan first, then we can visit the store, sweetie."

Tilia brightened and let go of my hand, using her free hand to wave. "Bye Ethan." I almost laughed. It seemed that the store was enough distraction for her to forget that she had pleaded for me to stay with them throughout the day.

"Bye. I'll see you later." I ruffled her hair—which made her pout with her cute little mouth—and backed away from them without knowing how to part with Matthews. Did we hug? Kiss? I had no idea, and neither did he. It was an awkward moment, but fortunately, the atmosphere unraveled as Tilia fled into the store with her dad trailing behind. I smiled at them and decided that I had other more important things to focus on than the possibility of public affection.

The first place I visited was a small restaurant that served over the counter. It was busy, and I could see how the workers struggled to rush through the customers' orders. Deciding that they probably needed help, I got in line and hoped the girl at the counter would let me talk to someone in charge.

When it was my turn, the girl, who couldn't be much older than 17, stared at me with wide eyes. It took a few seconds before she collected her thoughts and asked me what I wanted.

"I'd like to see the manager if they're here."

The reply was more staring.

"Is anyone here?" I asked again, hoping that she would snap out of her odd behavior.

"I'll go check," she replied, or rather, she squeaked out the words as if she had lost part of her voice.

The people in line behind me started to grovel, obviously in a hurry to order their food. I was about to turn around and ask what their problem was when the girl returned with a woman in tow.

"What can I help you with?" the woman asked, waving for me to get out of the line.

I followed her to one of the tables and sat down. "I'm looking for a job."

A faint sigh slipped past her lips. "Darling, you're not the only one. I'm afraid I don't have any openings."

I knew from the start that it wouldn't be easy to find a position, but the rejection still stung. Couldn't these people see that they might actually save my life if they hired me? Perhaps I was going a bit too far. Hopefully, Sam wouldn't kill me, but I knew he was capable of some scary shit.

"Are you sure? I'm desperate."

She shook her head. "I wish I could help everyone, dear, but I can't. I run a small business and we're overstaffed as we are."

My eyes found the girl at the counter again. She was definitely stressed, so I couldn't imagine them being overstaffed, but I had no intention of groveling more than I absolutely had to.

"Thank you for your time, ma'am." I extended my hand for a quick handshake and left the restaurant as fast as I could.

The same story repeated itself at the next ten stores and restaurants I visited, but with less pleasant words of rejection. It appeared that no one needed an extra hand in this city.

Dejected, I sat down on a bench and pulled my coat tighter around my freezing body. The sun stood low on the sky, and its beams didn't reach down between the tall buildings. It would be a cold night for those who didn't have a roof over their head. A few months ago, that would have been me.

"Well, well, look who's here."

I silently cursed and looked up, trying not to be too obvious about my discomfort in front of the man who seemed to enjoy toying with my existence.

"Sam, you've cleaned up nice."

Sam grinned and patted his long coat. It looked expensive, and he definitely didn't strike me as a full-time dealer. To anyone else, he would look like someone leaving their job at the bank—or something similar.

"You too," he commented and sat down next to me. "But, I seem to recall that you failed to meet my deadline. Can't have that, now can we?" He didn't sound threatening, but I knew him well enough to understand the warning.

"I need more time."

"You don't have more time, Ethan."

"If you don't give me more time, you won't get your money at all."

Sam laughed. It was a cold sound, as chilly as the air around us. "Someone's grown some balls."

"Always had them."

Sam put his hand on my shoulder, squeezing a smidgen too hard. "If you wish to keep them, you'll get me that money. You have until tomorrow."

"No, you won't get them tomorrow because I won't have them tomorrow."

"Then maybe I'll make you work for it. I know you went to Grand Escalier the other night. Seems you're not above working your ass off. Literally."

Bile rose in my throat at the mere thought of selling myself. I was too sober to do something like that. However, if the choice was between selling my ass or losing my balls, I guess it wasn't much of a choice.

"Give me another couple of weeks and I'll get your money."

"Nice try, Ethan, but you're not getting out of this because you happen to be cute." A sinister smile spread across his clean shaved face. "So, either you give me the money by tomorrow night, or you work for me at my new establishment until you've paid your debt in flesh."

I paled. So that was the reason he had adopted this new respectable look. Clearly, his patrons belonged to the upper classes of society. I had no intention of becoming a rent boy for the rich, especially not if it wasn't on my own terms.

"I'll get your money." I rose from the bench and walked against the stream of people, not looking back even for a second. My shoulders bumped into others, but I didn't care, not even when angry voices snapped at me from behind. I was fueled by anger and the toxic fumes of hopelessness.

Stalking down the street, I didn't stop until I spotted Tilia and Matthews heading straight toward me, laughing together. My heart dropped, falling into the acid inside my stomach.

Matthews looked up as if he sensed my presence. I noticed the precise moment when he realized that something was wrong. His smile vanished, and he made his way over with Tilia trailing behind.

"What happened?" His hand found my shoulder just as Sam's had, but Matthews' hold was different. It carried comfort, not danger.

I realized that I was out of options. Either I told Matthews what was going on, hoping that he could help me find a solution, or I left him in the dark and hoped for some kind of miracle. The latter option included lying, deceit, and ultimately the end of our weird relationship. It was as if I could see it fall apart right in front of me. We unraveled. I didn't want that. I wanted the dream; I wanted to hope.

"I'm in trouble."

The expression descending on his face told me that he knew the effort hiding beneath those simple words. "Tell me about it."

"I owe someone money, and I'm out of time."

"How much?"

I could hardly breathe.

"Don't panic, Ethan, just tell me the number."

He made it sound so simple. He made it sound as if money was nothing—as if money were simple numbers on worthless pieces of paper.

I clenched my fists, trying to force the words out of me.

"Tell me, Ethan. Now."

"Five grand."

"Thank you for telling me. How much time do you have to pay it back." How could he sound so calm?

"Tomorrow."

"Then let's go home." He took my hand and steered me down the street.

People went out of our path this time—no bumping into shoulders. Perhaps they knew to stay away, or perhaps it was the aura surrounding Matthews wherever he went. Either way, I was grateful for the small gesture given by strangers—people who knew nothing about the troubles I faced.

I looked at Matthews, then at his hand wrapped around mine. He knew. This man knew about at least some of the problems that weighed on my weak shoulders, and he wasn't leaving me behind. He still held me tight as if he had decided to save me from myself and my miserable fate. 

A/N OMG, HE TOLD HIM!!!!